Chapter 2: Travelin’ Man

“Where should we start?” Caleb asked his father, Harrad Colony’s governor. “R’Stbkt said that we should plan it out like the European Grand Tours of old. You know, travel, see the world, get culture.”

“Those Grand Tours were usually planned and accompanied by a knowledgeable guide,” Michael told his son. “The only truly knowledgeable guide available would be the AI of a trading ship. That would be R’Stbkt. He’s probably been everywhere. I think you should ask him to start planning ... You might also want to drop in on your godmother and ask for her thoughts.”

Michael was sitting under a striped umbrella on the patio in front of Harrad’s new brewpub. He was sipping a perfectly frosty mug of dark brau, Millstream Brewery’s Back Road Stout. Like all drinkable alcohol on Harrad, it was brewed from a recipe contained in the huge archive of proprietary information that most of Earth’s surviving businesses had entrusted to Harrad Colony. Lounging with Michael was the enigma who chose to be known as ‘Pat’, the man who saw patterns where no one else could.

On this rare occasion, neither man was accompanied by any member of his harem, spouses, or whatever one decides to call the female contingent that typically surrounded each. They were lazily speculating on the nature of the Sa’arm.

“We know some ‘whats’ if not exactly how,” Pat summarized. “They learn fast and respond to problems but don’t seem to anticipate or innovate. They triangulate to targets and react to stimuli as if they have a shared mind. Their abilities seem to attenuate as a function of numbers and distance between units. When separated into small enough units, they get progressively more stupid. So, Occam’s razor would have it that a given batch of Sa’arm have a shared mind – call it a gestalt. Simple telepathy wouldn’t account for that last attenuation of abilities.”

Pat paused to take a sip of his amber drink and mused, “You know, I never got a chance to visit Iowa’s Amana Colonies. Too bad, the three brews I’ve tasted from Millstream Brewery’s recipes are all killer good ... But I digress. Sometimes I need my ladies to keep me on track.”

Michael nodded his understanding. “For me, it’s like having extensions to my brain ... or certainly to my ego.”

“Now,” Pat swallowed yet another sip and continued, “if a Sa’arm unit or ship observes and reports upstream, those present units or following know what that Sa’arm unit knows and uses that knowledge. However, there are instances where humans encounter Sa’arm colonies or ships, where the Sa’arm do not appear to react to humans or human tactics with knowledge of what has gone before. That’s a contradiction. The Sa’arm’s other use of technology and tactics seems to me to be reasonably consistent throughout. Except, on a recent scale, where humans are involved. So, what does all that tell us?” he asked Michael rhetorically.

“I’m thinking you’ve deduced something about the nature of the Sa’arm expansion and, maybe more importantly, the relationship between the Sa’arm gestalts,” Michael replied as he raised his hand for the dirndl-costumed serving wench to bring another round of brews.

“If I’m right, and I believe I am, my conclusions could have a profound impact on our ability to fight and maybe someday eliminate the Sa’arm as a problem.” Pat explained, “First, picture the Sa’arm’s outward colonizing routes as a wheel with spokes or maybe a sphere like a dandelion. When a Sa’arm unit, individual, ship, or colony encounters something new – like new human tactics – information is promptly relayed back up the spoke to the originating colony and subsequently to the next originating colony, and so on...”

He was silent and stared into space, then nodded and continued, “BUT, until the information reaches a point upstream where another spoke originated, it appears there is no certainty of that information crossing over to a neighboring spoke. Unless the Sa’arm communicate across family lines, and I don’t think they deliberately do so, humans expanding laterally across the Sa’arm should encounter lots of Sa’arm virgins.”

Pat concluded,” So if a ship enters a system, it’s quite possible that old, obsolete tactics and weapons would succeed when they might not with experienced Sa’arm. Same for planets. So if the Sa’arm don’t give a damn about the Sa’arm species but only family, that’s one heckuva advantage that humans would have ... The trick would be in recognizing the stage of a given Sa’arm gestalt.”

Dora, who had been listening, chimed in, <And really, until the arrival of humans, the chink is undiscoverable and indiscernible by any other species in the Confederacy. Only humans fight the Sa’arm; so only humans could recognize this flaw in the Sa’arm’s approach to war.>

“True, and the implications go beyond tactics to strategy,” Pat replied. “If we could progress up one or more spokes and find the originating colony or even a node far enough up the spoke, we might be able to prevent the information about humans and human tactics from reaching the edge of the Sa’arm expansion.”

“Caleb has been looking for ideas on where to take Cheval Jaune . When he takes his grand tour we’ll have him consider what he sees in light of your theory,” Michael declared. “That way, he’ll be doing more than showing the flag to the various Confederacy species.”

Accustomed to the signature arrival announcement anthems of Helva, The Goodship Lollipop, the Bunte Kuh, and Cheval Jaune, the staff of Rukbat’s orbital control merely grinned happily when the nonsense lyrics of Mairzy Doats wafted through their speaker.

“It is I, Norma Bates, aboard the AKF066 - Pink Panther, captained by the private citizen known to you as friend Rocky, or T’Bwinkel of the clan N’Trast. She is here to visit her kits and godson.”

With that revelation, alerts sounded throughout the colony! T’Bwinkel’s godson, Caleb, overrode the initial response from orbital control with, “Welcome godmother, welcome!”

A cacophony of other welcomes, both aural and via implant, threatened to overwhelm any hope of sensible communication. Finally, Dora, in her role as Governor Michael’s wife and colony AI, seized control of all communications and allowed Michael to speak to the arriving ship. “Lead Councilor,” Michael began, “welcome. We are honored beyond any expectations.”